Truth is in the T-shirt

We had Father’s Day a week ago Saturday, later than anyone else. Used to be, my wife and I marked Mother’s Day and Father’s Day with maybe a card and “Happy Whichever.” Then Kathleen was retired from the Air Force, and holidays became a time of celebration. Priscilla and I had always marked the kids’ birthdays, Christmas and such, but had paid no mind to the advertisers’ demand that we take part in other holidays. We did not buy valentines or chocolates and such, nor visit furniture stores before Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day and etc.

After Kathleen’s retirement, she made a habit of calling three or more weeks before, asking, “What are you and Mom doing for Mother’s Day?” or “Father’s Day?” The answer at first was, “Not much” or “Nothing.”

Kathleen is a planner, though, and our answers were not the ones she expected or would accept. Her time as an Air Force navigator made good use of her inherent ability to plan things, and none of that ceased just because she no longer wears a uniform. In all her civilian jobs, she has been the one designated to plan office whatevers. She is quite good at it.

She always gives us the opportunity to make our own suggestion, following our designated activity with “What about lunch?” Her jobs and her friends take her to many different restaurants in the area. She knows the good ones.

This year, I chose miniature golf and Greek as my desired activity and  lunch. With my choices made, Kathleen then got all the necessary information about miniature golf courses and made reservations at a Greek restaurant.

We all had a good time – Priscilla, Kathleen, Casey our youngest and A, Casey’s friend. Michael, our oldest, lives in a Mountain Time state, and we did not expect him to drive or fly to Florida for an afternoon of miniature golf and Greek food.

Pushing my VA-supplied walker, I managed nine holes before my knees gave out. Priscilla later said, “You did very well. The temperature was in the 90s, and the sun was hot.” The Greek food was good, as well.

Kathleen also bought two Father’s Day gifts for me – a Dammit doll and a T-shirt. The doll is a representation of President Biden. When frustrated because of Biden’s decisions or statements, one takes the doll by the feet and slams it against the nearest hard object while yelling, “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

The T-shirt is black and has in big white letters:

Best.

Dad.

Ever.

I thought about other dads I have known – mine, Priscilla’s, my father’s, cousins’ fathers, Army sergeant fathers – and I decided, “Yeah. That’s true.”